


Just a Scratch

by vesta02



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: After the Arishok, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Injury, Slight fluff, Subtle FenHawke vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesta02/pseuds/vesta02
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s only a scratch Anders."<br/>"No, Hawke, it’s not just a scratch. I saw it, you were impaled not once, not twice, but seven times by my count.”<br/>“Only seven? I believe I lost count after the first two."</p><p>Following the end of Act II, Hawke muses on her found family, Fenris and enjoys some time with her misfits from Kirkwall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Scratch

“It’s only a scratch Anders,” Hawke laughed and everything felt lighter than air. Was the ceiling spinning or was she moving? She couldn’t quite tell, a bemused, goofy expression slipping across her lips. “I mean, not that I’m complaining. What’d you give me?”

“Something for the pain,” A pause and Anders sighed, the long-suffering healer giving his companion a stern look. “And no, Hawke, it’s not just a scratch. I saw it, you were impaled not once, not twice, but _seven_ times by my count.”

“Only seven? I believe I lost count after the first two,” Maybe it hadn’t been her brightest idea to fight the Arishok one-on-one and maybe she had been impaled a few times too many (he was quick for being so big, thank the Maker she had ample potions on her to keep from bleeding out in the Viscount's Keep) but Kirkwall was safe. Her friends were safe. “Tell me I at least have an impressive scar from all of it.” She was rewarded with a derisive snort from the mage.

The Hawke Estate felt alive tonight, filled with the people she loved most. True, they were there because she had all but collapsed following the fight, but there was something peaceful about filling the space with noise and laughter. Ever since Bethany had been whisked away to the Grey Wardens, things had been darker in their home, a little less joyful. Hawke tried her best to keep her mother’s spirits up but even she felt the weight of it all when she laid her head down at night, attempting to drink and sleep away the demons in her mind that told her she needed to be better, faster, stronger.

Tonight there was no room for sorrow, not when everyone Hawke loved filled the room. Under the influence of whatever Anders had given her, she took a moment, letting her eyes linger on her friends, the family she had slowly created here in Kirkwall.

“I can’t believe you went up against the Arishok,” Aveline fussed from next to the couch, a scowl doing very little to mask the real concern behind her words, “that was pretty bloody stupid of you.” From across the room, Isabela shifted uncomfortably, the pirate queen more than aware of just what her choices had nearly cost Hawke.

But there was no malice on Hawke’s face, strangely loving as she met Isabela’s gaze for a moment before she attempted a shrug (a painful shrug, damnit, wasn’t the potions Anders had given her supposed to stop the tug and twinge?). “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” She intoned in slurred words, an unfocused sort of smirk sliding across her lips. The tagline for her life - everything seemed like a good idea at the time, even when it was dangerous, deadly or incredibly stupid. It was a wonder she was still alive at this point and she had to wonder if maybe she had a little death wish.

No matter though, not tonight, not when she had so much to be grateful for.

Hawke slipped back into a state of half-dreaming, listening to the warm sounds of her friends (her family, her lot of misfit toys), not sure what time it is when she woke again. But she felt fingers at her brow, brushing back short hair from her face as she snuck a peek.

“You were brave,” Fenris’s voice was deep, oh so serious from where he sat on the floor next to her, green eyes focused on anything but her own blue gaze, “brave but also foolish.” His lips pressed firmly into a thin line but Hawke laughed softly instead.

“Aren’t I always?” She murmured, “Brave and foolish, yeah?” Her hand felt heavy but she lifted it anyways, cupping his cheek, whatever Anders gave her earlier still in full effect, touching him before she had a chance to stop herself. He flinched just so, but he didn’t pull away, didn’t shove her hand back to her side. He took a moment, closing his eyes and, ever so slightly, he leaned into her touch.

“You could have died, Hawke,” He murmured, his voice so soft. “Marian, you could have _died_.”

He didn’t need to be quiet - most of the group had left as Hawke ‘s gaze trailed around the room. Only Varric remained, passed out in a chair near the fire, mouth opened as he snored gently in sleep. Fenris was staring back at her again and there was something painful in the way he looked at her, filled with uncertainty and fear but also adoration, devotion, _love_.

“I didn’t die, though,” Hawke sighed, aware that he only ever called her _Marian_ when he had something terribly serious to say to her. “I couldn’t let them take Isabela. Not when I could do something about it.” There was always something, she thought in her hazy mind, someone who needed saving, a cause that needed a champion, a city that she had to clean-up bit by bit.

“Does it always have to be you who saves them?” It was a good question and Hawke sighed, closing her heavy eyes, frowning in thought.

“If not me, who?” Fenris made a noise and Hawke snorted. “I know, I know,” She yawned, peeking up at him again, “how very noble of me, right?” But the way he looked at her made her heart shudder and she swallowed hard.

“I do not want to lose you,” They were such simple words. They hadn’t spoken of their night all those months back, of the things they had shared, the feelings that remained. Hawke had hoped beyond hope that he would eventually walk back through her bedroom doors, that he would beg her to forgive him, that he would hold her, touch her like he had done so expertly before. It was hope that flared to life when he pressed his forehead against hers, a surprisingly tender gesture for a man who she had seen rip the still beating heart out of another’s chest without missing a beat.

For a moment, Hawke thought he might kiss her. Her eyes fluttered closed, lips parted for a kiss that never came. Instead he sighed, shifting again, pulling away from her. “You should sleep, Hawke,” He murmured, settling back to the ground.

“You’ll stay?” She whispered, eyes open again for a moment, feeling heavy with quiet disappointment and for sleep she so desperately needed. His lips quirked into a half smile, running a hand through his pale hair. Her heart lifted a little, eyes glancing to his wrist where the red scarf wrapped, a gift she had freely given, a symbol of her own devotion. The fact that he wore it, continued to display it, gave her a little hope. Even being impaled by a Qunari blade couldn’t dampen the strange lightness in her heart.

“I am at your side.”

 


End file.
